Ukitake at Hogwarts
by Nuclear Sheep
Summary: Due to a series of strange events, Ukitake ends up at Hogwarts.


AN: I wanted to get Ukitake into Hogwarts. Did it work?

Albus Dumbledore was pacing his office worriedly. Last week the acceptance letters for the new batch of first years had been sent out. It was the year Harry Potter was supposed to start at Hogwarts. The only problem was that the owls refused to deliver his letter. Whichever owl was tried, it would just sit there and do nothing. Luckily Albus had several tracking spells on the boy, so he would find him in no time at all. He just wondered what was wrong with the owls.

Several hours later Albus stood in front of a muggle hospital. According to his trackers, Harry Potter was somewhere inside the building. Finding him would be tricky. Magic had the tendency to disrupt muggle machinery, and Albus wasn't inclined to accidentally kill someone. After walking around and some use of legilimancy he found Harry in the ICU, hooked up to many machines. After studying them for some time he decided to just go ahead and take the boy. He quickly cast some spells to stabilize him and portkeyed him out to Hogwarts.

Some days later the situation was rather bleak. The rest of Harry's family had been killed in a car crash, that meant the blood wards were gone. For that to actually matter Harry needed to get better. Madam Pomfrey had healed all his injuries, but the boy simply wouldn't wake up. No matter what anyone did. Albus had started looking through all of his books for a possible solution. He had found one ritual that would restore the boy's mind. It was a very long shot, but Albus was getting desperate. If the boy was still asleep the day after tomorrow, Albus would go ahead with the ritual.

Ukitake Juushiro slowly opened his eyes. His last memory was talking to a subordinate in London he had been performing a surprise inspection on. Nothing like showing up in person from time to time to keep personnel on their toes. That London had some very great sweet shops had nothing to do with it. Due to his great familiarity with the place Juushiro could tell that the ceiling he was currently staring at didn't belong to the Fourth division. It did belong to some kind of hospital, though, judging by the feeling of the bed he was currently occupying. Subtle twitching of his fingers and toes revealed that he was residing in a body. A real one, and not a gigai. He also seemed to have misplaced his limiter. Whatever he did, he needed to be extremely careful, unless he wanted to announce his presence to every hollow in the country and kill most of the population around him, while he was at it. Why did those things always happen to him? He needed to figure out how, but this was certainly Shunsui's fault. Somehow.

"Harry?" A voice on his left side asked hesitatingly. The enunciation sounded English.

"Who?" He decided to ask back.

"That's your name, my boy." The man answered. Juushiro decided to take a good look. He looked older than the Soutaichou, complete with beard to match. He had twinkling blue eyes that were hidden behind half moon spectacles. As soon as he made eye contact, Juushiro could feel a gentle mind probe. He projected confusion.

"Really? I can't remember. Why can't I remember?" Juushiro was especially proud of the slight note of panic he managed to inject in his voice.

He received a story about a car crash and a magical healing ritual in response. The only conclusion he could draw from that was idiot wizards.

Sometimes in accidents the soul would be divided from the body and pass on, while the body forgot to die. Normal humans would notice the lack of brain activity and let the body die. Wizards were not as smart. They saw a perfectly good working body that only needed a resident. So they designed a ritual to restore the mind. In most cases some simple wandering spirit was snatched up and shoved inside. The results were interesting to say the least. A plus would be confused and commit suicide within a few days. A hollow of any colour lead to great carnage. Now he had been snatched. How on earth was he going to explain that one to the old man when he got back?

The man finally remembered his manners and introduced himself as Albus Dumbledore. He was the headmaster of the school Juushiro would attend starting September. When he was alone Juushiro summoned a hell butterfly and sent it to Soul Society with his report. In response he was ordered to observe the wizards for some time, as their data was out of date in he was in a perfect position already.

A week after waking up Juushiro was dragged on a shopping trip by a rather stern looking older woman. She introduced herself as deputy headmistress Minerva McGonagall, the transfiguration teacher. Their first stop was at the bank, where he found out that Harry Potter was quite well off. At the end of this mission Juushiro would have to see about seizing that money for Soul Society, they could need more funds in the world of the living.

The professor wanted to buy the robes first, but Juushiro insisted on buying the trunk first, so he could carry his purchases easier. Then they went to the robe shop. There they met a rather arrogant blond boy that reminded Juushiro of some of the more obnoxious nobles he had had to deal with. The type existed everywhere, apparently. Then they picked up the various odds and ends he would need for all his classes. The apothecary had been rather unpleasant. At the book shop, Juushiro picked up a few volumes in addition to his required books. McGonagall looked very pleased about that. Their last stop was at the wand maker's shop. That nearly ended in disaster. At first, none of the wands reacted to him. He might have been able to channel his spiritual power through the wands, but that would have burned them to a crisp. He had no intention of paying that much money. The wand maker was getting desperate. Finally he unearthed a very old wand. It was roughly 2500 years old and made of yew, with the tail hair of a Thestral as the core. A very unusual combination, all associated with death. Quite fitting for Juushiro. He let a tiny trace of his power trickle into the wand. His reward was a bolt of lightning, barely conscious teacher and shop keeper and uncontrollable giggling from Sogyi no Kotowari. Stupid goldfish.

Careful reading of his books revealed that Albus Dumbledore had left out a few details concerning Harry Potter. Like the whole mess with Voldemort and the Boy-Who-Lived. Juushiro assumed that Dumbledore intended to use Harry Potter as some kind of figurehead or weapon, as Dumbledore had been the leader of a vigilante group against Voldemort. He seemed to truly care about Harry Potter, but had the tendency to sacrifice anything and everything for the greater good.

The picture of this society Juushiro had put together so far wasn't very flattering. If one had money, power, connections and the right background, one could go very far regardless of talent. To achieve all that, one needed to be born into a family of pure blood. If one was a half blood and moderately talented, one still could go far. Muggleborns were out of luck. One could be the most brilliant person in decades, but the stumbling blocks society put in place would be too much for anyone. Everything business was family owned somehow. To get ahead in the ministry, one needed to know the right people. In a way, it was like Soul Society had been before Genryusai-sensei had started his academy. Some of the noble houses still clung to the old ways, but if one got promoted beyond ones talents, one died. So promotion due to family connections had quickly fallen out of favour.

The wizarding world seemed to be quite stagnant and self interested as well. They showed no interest at all in the events of the outside world, and seemed to be genuinely frightened of outsiders. The heavy emphasis on tradition reinforced Juushiro's opinions. Most pure blood wizards didn't even know that humans had visited the moon. Those news had made it to Soul Society in no time at all. Even the last war, devastating as it had been, hadn't changed a thing. Things in Soul Society changed slowly, which was not surprising considering the long lives of its inhabitants, but they changed. The wizarding world seemed to have stopped somewhere in Victorian times. Too bad he wasn't allowed to interfere in the world of the living. It could be quite fun in this case.

Being a child celebrity certainly was interesting, Juushiro mused. He was staring at the passing landscape through his reflection in the train window. As soon as he arrived at the station, he had been mobbed by everyone there. He was alone in his compartment for now. He started to study his reflection more closely. His hair was white at the roots and his eyes were turning browner. The white was comforting, somehow. When his hair had turned whit the first time around, he had hated it, because it had made him different. But after 2500 years one did get attached to ones appearance. The white hair certainly gave him a dignified air. His musings were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Excuse me. Would you mind if I sit with you? Everywhere else is full." The terribly gangly red haired boy at the door asked.

"Feel free to come in." Juushiro replied.

"Um. I'm Ron Weasley, by the way." The boy said.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Harry Potter." Juushiro wasn't surprised by the quick glance at his forehead.

"Are you really! Can I see the scar?" Juushiro couldn't prevent a sigh and an eye roll.

"At least that is what everyone tells me, and asking to see my scar was terribly rued." His words came out somewhat biting.

"Er, sorry. Mum would kill me for what I just said. People must bug you a lot." Ron had no idea.

"Oh yes. It's especially annoying since I didn't know about magic or being famous until my Hogwarts letter came. It's a lot to take in. I'm just a normal boy." At one point he had been almost normal.

"I can't imagine living without magic! How can muggles cope without quidditch?" Juushiro had the sinking feeling he would regret his next question.

"What's quidditch?" He was right. The following monologue was almost like listening to Shunsui talk about women. Only without the wish for brain bleach.

When the trolley came around, Juushiro bought some of everything. At least now Ron was too busy eating to talk any more about quidditch.

Some time later a rather bossy girl came by with a shy and timid looking boy in tow. The boy had lost his toad. Juushiro decided to try out the summoning spell he had read about. It worked. That set the girl off.

"Did you practice that spell before?" The girl asked.

"No, it looked rather simple." He replied.

"It's in the standard book of spells, grade four. It's a fourth year spell!" She exclaimed.

"So it is." Compared to even low level kido this was child's play.

"Oh. I'm Hermione Granger, and that's Neville Longbottom." People here seemed to have no manners.

"That's Ron Weasley, and I'm Harry Potter." He introduced them.

That led to Hermione rattling on about where and what she had read about him. Juushiro knew all that, too.

"You shouldn't believer everything you read. No one ever asked me about my side of the story, and I'm the only one left who was there. And asking me won't do anyone any good, since I was too young to remember anyway. Anything you read about that night in the books is baseless speculation on the author's part." Technically, he hadn't been there either.

Hermione left without a word, Neville following in her wake with his toad.

"That was a fourth year spell?" Ron asked.

"Yes." Juushiro replied.

"How come you could do it if you just found out about magic?" Ron asked.

"I had an accident earlier this summer and had to stay in the hospital for a long time. I started reading my school books and practising wand movements with a stick. I think it paid off." Juushiro mused.

"Sure did! But were you stuck there all summer?" Ron asked horrified. For him, that seemed to be a fate worse than death.

The rest of the train ride was quiet, apart from a minor dispute with Draco Malfoy, who reminded him of some of the more annoying Kuchikis he had met.

When they arrived in Hogsmeade, they were greeted by the mortal version of Jidanbou the Gatekeeper. He led them through the forest to the lake, which they crossed in boats, the brightly lit castle a magnificent sight above the black water.

At the castle they were greeted by Professor McGonagall. After a few stern words she left them alone, only to be replaced by ghosts. Juushiro really wanted to send them on.

After a few minutes she returned and let them into the great hall where the older students were waiting. The bewitched ceiling was very impressive. Professor McGonagall left again and returned with a tattered old hat on a stool. A short song introduced it as the Sorting Hat. Then McGonagall started calling out names. Then it was his turn.

"Oh dear. Sorting you is going to be difficult." The hat's voice went directly into his brain, bypassing his ears.

"Why is that?" Juushiro asked.

"Eleven year old minds are very simple, you see. Sifting through 2500 years worth of memories is going to take time. How did that happen, anyway?" The hat wondered.

"Can you talk to anyone else about what you see during the sorting?" Juushiro asked.

"No." The hat sounded affronted.

"The spirit originally inhabiting this body crossed over after an accident, and the body forgot to die. When the headmaster tried to restore the mind of Harry Potter, I was pulled in. As I was here already, my superiors decided to leave me here as an observer, as our knowledge of the wizarding world needed updating. I'm a death god, by the way." Juushiro explained.

"I just reached that part. That is very interesting." The hat said.

"Yes, my life has been quite eventful." Juushiro replied.

"It certainly beats sitting on a shelf for most of the year." The hat grumbled.

"That must be terrible. A bit peace and quiet would be nice for the next century or two." Juushiro said.

"Ah, that guy makes Voldemort look like a choir boy in comparison." The hat replied.

"Oh yes. We came out on top in the end. It was a close call, though. Any idea about my house yet?" Juushiro asked.

"You'd fit anywhere. You have courage in spades. You are hard working and loyal. You value knowledge and know how to use it. You are ambitious and can plot circles around everyone." The had answered.

"If my health had been better I would have ended up in Second Division or the Secret Mobile Corps." Juushiro mused.

"Pick whatever house you want." The hat said.

"What house would I cause the most mayhem in?" Juushiro asked.

"Another prankster. I know just the thing for you." The hat said.

Severus Snape scowled at the first years. That one looked like yet another Weasley. As if there weren't enough already. Didn't the parents have any other hobbies. There was Lucious Malfoy's brat. Most likely spoilt rotten and as annoying as his father. Too bad he had to butter up to the kid. The two boys on either side of him looked quite familiar. Heaven help them all, Crabbe and Goyle had managed to spawn. What had he done to deserve the fate of having to teach them potions of all things. He finally found Potter. Not quite what he imagined. Perfect posture, kept unconsciously. That was rare in adults and mostly unheard of in children. Potter's father had walked whit a permanent slouch that he only got rid off once he started Auror training.

The boy also didn't fidget. Most children did. Maybe someone had drilled manners into the boy. Now it was his turn. He walked with the grace of a dancer. Ballet, perhaps? Or fencing? Both unusual, but not unheard of.

Now the sorting hat twitched. As if it had been surprised by something. Most eleven year olds were rather boring, even if they thought otherwise. This sorting was taking awfully long. Some of the older students were looking longingly at their empty plates. Apparently someone had forgot to tell the hat that Potter belonged to Gryffindor.

"Slytherin!" The hat's shout shocked Snape. What was he supposed to do with Potter in his house?

He started to clap politely and glared at his students to do the same. They complied out of habit. Potter sat down next to the other first years. This was going to be a long year. The thought of Potter the elder spinning in his grave was a small consolation.

He had intended to make the boy's life a living hell, but now he couldn't do that. He was supposed to favour his little snakes. Maybe he could set himself up as a mentor for the boy. That would serve to piss off the father in the afterlife. Potter nodded politely when he made eye contact. Snape raised his goblet in a silent toast.

The feast was interesting. Food served by magic. Juushiro wondered who cooked it. He made a mental note to find the kitchens. He started studying the great hall and its occupants. Something about one of the teachers was strange. He shifted his perception to a more spiritual level and took a closer look at the one with the turban. He was possessed by a spirit with more than one chain of fate. Juushiro was pretty sure just who the possessing entity was. It looked like the teacher had let himself be possessed willingly. In that case the chances of the host surviving were none existent.

Severus Snape woke up to the worst possible pain in his left arm. The Dark Mark was glowing black for a moment before vanishing without a trace. He bolted for the headmaster's quarters. The headmaster looked pretty out of it once he opened the door.

"Look!" Snape yelled, pushing his left arm almost into Albus' face.

Albus took a close look and couldn't find any trace of the mark either.

"Tell me exactly what happened." Albus demanded.

"I woke up because my arm hurt. The pain was worse than anything I ever felt. Then the mark glowed black for a moment and vanished. That's all I know." Snape replied hurriedly.

Albus pulled him into his office by the back of his nightshirt and shoved him into a chair. Then he performed more diagnostic spells than Snape imagined existed. Waved all manner of instruments over him. Snape fell asleep to his muttering. The headmaster's next words shocked him awake.

"Voldemort is dead. Completely, this time. Don't ask me how. We'll probably never know." Dumbledore looked put out by that.

The next morning, they found Quirrel's body. Close examination revealed that he had been possessed by Voldemort.

Juushiro was bored. Classes were interesting, but way too easy. Homework was a joke. He hoped they would find a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher soon. According to the headmaster the teacher they were supposed to have had slipped in the shower and broken his neck. Juushiro knew better.

Today was the day of his first potions lesson. Their head of house would be teaching them and the Gryffindors. Juushiro didn't think that pairing those two houses for most classes was a good idea. There seemed to be a strong rivalry. Which was fine in history class, but could be bad with a dangerous subject like potions. At least it would be interesting.

And it certainly was. Snape swooped in dramatically and held a rather pompous speech. Then he asked Juushiro a few questions well beyond first year level. He had no problems answering them and earned a few points. The potion making itself was nice. It needed precision, but lacked the grace and beauty of a tea ceremony.

Then Longbottom blew up his cauldron, which set Snape off. The man certainly wasn't the best of teachers. If the rest of the year followed the pattern, this class wouldn't get boring.

Snape looked back on the first two months of classes. All things considered, everything was running smoothly. Even the most lingering homesickness had faded by now and his nights were mostly quiet, apart from the occasional upset stomach or lover's tryst. Potter was shaping up to be the model student. He was polite, never argued back and knew the answer to every question asked of him. Despite that he was very well liked by the other students. Of all houses. He didn't rub his excellent grades in the other students' faces. Granger failed dismally at that point. She was very smart, not as smart as Potter, but certainly smarter than the rest of the students. And she couldn't help annoying the other students with it. If a student had troubles performing a charm, she told them where they were making mistakes. Potter asked if the student in question had thought about doing it differently and coached them to reach the correct answer on their own. The difference was obvious. Snape was glad that Granger wasn't his problem.

Snape made a point to speak to all his students at the beginning of the year. Somehow Potter had been shuffled to the bottom of the pile. He had wanted to talk to the boy sooner, but other students had occupied his time with some to them very pressing problems.

There was a knock at his office door. Potter was punctual.

"Good evening Mr. Potter. Please take a seat." He didn't much look like either of his parents. But that was most likely due to the white hair. He had seen the boy when the headmaster had first brought him here. His hair had been black then and he had looked like a carbon copy of his father. Now the son was looking at him expectantly.

"I always make it a point to talk to all my students at the beginning of the school year. Due to clerical difficulties you got shuffled to the bottom of the pile and I just now realized I hadn't talked to you yet. I apologize for that over sight. I trust you have acclimatizes to Hogwarts by now?" Snape asked.

"Yes sir. Everyone has been very kind to me. Some of the older students acted a bit strange in the beginning, but they are all right now." Potter answered.

"How do you like your classes? The other teachers are full of praise for your academic work." Snape inquired.

"The material is interesting enough, but quite boring, as I read ahead extensively this summer. I often spend the time in class coaching other students." That wasn't news to Snape.

"Have you noticed any ill effects of your accident? Did any of your memories return?" Snape asked.

"No, sir. To both questions. My factual memories are all there, only the biographic information is missing. Considering the typical lifespan of wizards losing ten years isn't all that tragic." That was a strange outlook for a boy.

"You don't know who you are, though." Snape said.

"I don't know who I was before the accident. I know who I am now. I just have to work harder to find out who I want to be than others." Getting into a philosophical discussion with that one would be dangerous.

"That is a very mature outlook on life. Do you have any questions?" Snape asked.

"No, sir." Snape looked at him.

"That is all, them. Feel free to come to me at any time, if you have questions. My door is always open for my students."

Juushiro had to re-evaluate his opinion of Snape. While the man was completely useless in the classroom, he was quite effective as a surrogate parent. If he would just manage to carry over some of the attitude he showed in the dealings of his house to the classroom, he would be an excellent teacher. Juushiro didn't like wasted potential.

He made his way to the library. The material there had been very helpful in his work. He hoped he wouldn't have to stay the full seven years. Right now, he was even missing Sentaro and Kyone, annoying as they could be. Going out for a drink with Shunsui would be nice as well.

Now there was an annoying tickle in his throat. Other than a gigai, this actual human body was susceptible to all pathogens. He hoped he hadn't caught a cold. That would be annoying. He started coughing. When he blacked out he tasted blood on his lips.

Shunsui walked into the infirmary at Hogwarts, secure in the knowledge that he was invisible to everyone. He just had to stay clear of the ghosts. His friend was in bad shape. His spiritual power had spiked with the attack and it had been decided to pull him out rather than risk destruction of the school. There was a rather worried looking teacher sleeping in a chair. Carefully Shunsui pushed his friend out of the body. Then he opened the Senkaimon.

Snape woke with a start. He thought he had heard something. Then he noticed that Potter had stopped breathing. Madam Pomfrey raced in from her office. She had been monitoring the child, obviously. They tried everything they knew. It all failed. Harry Potter was dead.

Somewhere, on another plain of existence a little green eyed boy with messy black hair looked at an older boy with huge eyes.

"Can you tell me more about Shinigami?"


End file.
